


Once Again

by Stone_Heart



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Again and Again, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Confident Katsuki Yuuri, Established Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Everything is Beautiful and Everything Hurts, Exactly What It Says on the Tin, Eye Contact, Family Bonding, Family Feels, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Heavy Angst, Katsuki Yuuri is So Done, Love at First Sight, M/M, Minor Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky, Protective Victor Nikiforov, Protectiveness, Reincarnation, Reunited and It Feels So Good, Sad, Smut, Soul Bond, Soulmates, Supportive Victor Nikiforov, True Love, Victor Nikiforov Being Victor Nikiforov, Victor Nikiforov is Extra, Viktor with a K, eventually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-16 06:42:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13630800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stone_Heart/pseuds/Stone_Heart
Summary: Viktor and Yuuri find themselves constantly reincarnated throughout history. When their eyes met, all the memories come flooding back - each lifetime they had lived together in a thousand different worlds - now they remembered it all.In their separation, they live different lives, in many different era's. When they stumble across each other, things get messy.





	Once Again

His phone rumbled in his pocket, which was odd for this time of night. It was late; the thoughts in his mind were steadily ebbing away. When he had been younger, his lack of sleep never ate away at him like this. Every now and this, his eyes would shut momentarily, and he'd have to wipe the bleariness from his eyes. His students had sent him their programs, and Yuuri had been too lost in his work to notice the call at first.

“Yurio?” he swiped, and placed the phone to his ear.

All he heard was the rush of words – Russian – at first, faster than he could understand it. They were panicky, scattering across the line. He had never sounded like that – speaking like the words were biting at him.

“-Viktor-“ he heard- then again- “ _skoraya pomoshch–_ Vitya-“

Immediately, the floor dropped out beneath him. The words were harder to hear – Russian burning against his ear. He understood the words, but they were scrambled. Frantic, breathless, howling sounds that hurt his chest.

“Get to the airport,” he had said. Get to the airport, get onto the fastest plane to Russia. They didn’t sound like words – they were ringing through them like they had been his thoughts.

“Why?!” He stood, knocking his laptop to the ground. “What – Yuri - what's going on?“

“It’s Viktor.” Yuuri could hear the swallow through the microphone. “His heart – fuck Yuuri – it’s _bad_.”

“Bad?” Bad- no- his heart? What did that even mean? “Where is he-?!”

“Yuuri-“

“Get him on the phone,” he snatched his keys, wallet – passport in the draw – stuffing it in a bag. “Get him _on_ the phone, Yuri!”

“Fuck-“ Yuri’s voice rattled, something deep and guttural. “Yuuri – I can’t-“

“Where is he – please just tell me-“ the room had started to swim, voice hitching in his ears. The blood was rushing, as though he had placed his head close to the edge of the train tracks. “His heart – you said his heart-“ He pulled open the door, sucking in the cold night air. “What did you mean by that?! His heart – what is wrong with him?”

The silence bore down on him. It sat, densely in the air between him – sticking to his ears. He had climbed in the car – into the seat -  the seat belt was choking him – and Yuri couldn’t even speak through the thick of it.

His lung had started to heave, violently sucking in breaths that shook his entire frame. Whatever the boy had just said – his body had completely rejected the words. Whatever he had been – he felt like he was watching from afar.

The phone had twisted in his fingers, and strangely through the calm, he could hear screaming. The dashboard contorted before him – glittering as the wheel punched his ribs in.

“They didn’t get to him in time.”

He had heard the words before. This could’ve been the millionth time he had heard the words – they ran through each memory -  mind all a clutter of the words – time – time – get to him – he had _heard_ the words but each time they stole a little more from him. Yuuri had heard the words _minutes_ ago – and each time he had rejected it.

 _They didn’t get to him in time_ – those words were unimaginable – they couldn’t exist in the same space.

He had held Viktor at the airport – not tight enough – he should’ve held him – held him here. The memory was fresh – salient – salient – it was there in his fingers. If he only reached out – if they hadn’t driven away – if Victor wasn’t in St Petersburg then-

_Theydidn’tgettohimintime-they-they-_

He was wailing – curled around the wheel. It hurt his chest – the floaty feeling that knocked against him – he was right there, Victor was there – and now- now?

If he had gone instead, if he could’ve gone, if he could’ve d- could’ve gone instead of him – if God and heaven would allow a trade – Yuuri was praying that he would.

It was quiet – so very quiet outside – the world hadn’t disappeared yet. Where had Yuuri gone? His body – he couldn’t see where the night started and he stopped. _Prosti-prosti- Yuura-_ the words slammed into him.

“He is dead.” That is what Yuri had meant – that was what he couldn’t say – it is what he had said only hours back – dead – dead – that –

Dead.

Ended. Passed away, heat stopped, _theydidn’tgettohimintime,_ Yuuri was being cut up – that it – his mother – he needed to go- he needed to get to St Petersburg-

This was to suffer. To exist now was to suffer, each breath had another wail in turn. His lungs couldn’t keep up, burning him up from the inside. Everything – everything was gone – his heart had been ripped from his chest.

Yuuri couldn’t remember much about that night. His mother had said that he kept screaming and screaming, so she had taken him to their home. She had been there, fixed by his side – together and unshattered.

In the morning, she chaperoned him into the car. Each second was thick with him – what was there left?

It was impossible – imagining a world where he would never see that smile again.

Time tripped him up. He was at a grave – shivering in his ghastly suit of grey. His mother had eventually helped him into the car – but it must have been days. Voices rang saddening like a hymn – only gathering sleep mothering the thoughts away.

He wondered why the colour had been sapped from it all. Sickness took him easily, recognizing him – they passed everyone else in his childhood home. Eyes passed from him, pity dulling their features, until they turned to the others who were whole.

Steadily, the light outside took on meaning. Yuri was here – Otabek had brought him a pair of skates that had made a home in his bed. They were familiar – he had done up these laces before, smiling – how had he stretched his muscles like that? – and he had looked up at those blue eyes. Eyes that were not full of pity.

He started running again, because his heart would pump, and he liked that feeling. Yuuko met him at the beach once, and brought him coffee. Minutes later, he had thrown up again, and Yuuko bought him some hot tea instead. Yuuri had liked that.

He liked things now. That was another feeling now – just two in his arsenal. He liked that there was a little contrast now. Something to settle the black from the white.

He liked that Yuuko was here. She made him smile again – which had him bursting into tears because happiness was too hard to handle for more than a few seconds – but that smile felt right.

His evenings were quiet. Viktor’s wedding band sat around him finger. Sometimes he put the metal under his tongue, feeling the edges. A habit had developed, but he made no move to make it.

One night, he ate nearly three bowls of Katsudon. Yuri didn’t even hesitate.

“Piggy-“ he said, sneering. “You’re going to get fat again.”

“What?” he said through a mouthful of rice. “It’s not like Viktor can stop me now.” His mother froze, polite smile caught between them. “I might as well take advantage of this!” Yuri snorted, and now they were both heaving for breath – laughter curling up his sides. The tears burst from his eyes, and once more he had begun to wail.

And each day, the unimaginable became incrementally more ingrained. He could live now, live beside his grief.

Each day would come, and each day was another chance, wasn’t it? On days he fell apart, he had the chance to piece it all together again.

There was no replacing what he had lost.

But eventually, the quiet became bearable again. Yuuri passed forty-four – the year Viktor had died – and his age had started to show. And it was okay! Because now he could laugh, and remember, and cry when it became too much.

And it was unbearable.

And it was normal.

And it would be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, this is probably going to update at some point, but if you want to read something along the same vein, check out my page for an Otayuri version of this au! Essentially, the two stories are connected, but you can read both independently without trouble!
> 
> Check out Wanweird! It's in my profile, and is part of the same universe.
> 
> Thanks lovelies!
> 
> See you next chapter!


End file.
